The Rhone Ranger

Okay I couldn't resist the title. 

I have noticed that we have been struggling to make a start on our daily legs much before lunch time and was becoming a little envious of our new friends in Beligou. A German couple who are up, fed and washed and away by 9 am. We however seem to find plenty to do in the mornings. Getting out of bed is one major task. Impossible without a cup of tea. Then it's breakfast, then a shower and then another coffee.

Wednesday was no exception. Beligou, knowing there were two locks and 42 km to go before our destination, the small town of Condrieu, were up and gone before our cup of tea was sat on the bedside.

I had been getting a little worried about Mrs Kilbride as she seemed to have lost some purpose in that she was not hunting for any particular object. The sun umbrella had been her last and I was worried that having nothing to focus on could become difficult if her attentions turned to husband development. A course I have been enrolled on for 23 years.

Well I suddenly realised I needn't  have worried  as we sat in Starbucks using their Wifi this Wednesday morning before our long voyage to watch a Youtube video on how to knit the heels on  bed socks. An all too complex process that is testing my little cream cake.

At last we set off at 11:30 taking a last look at the lovely Lyon before we press on down the Rhone.

The locks are getting deeper and scarier, note the guillotine similarity here. You don't upset lock keepers on the Rhone you know.

Which brings me back to our good friends on Beligou with whom we caught up at the second lock. They had been kept waiting at the first lock for an hour and had been at the second for over an hour partly due to a dangerous cargo ship.

We arrived and ten minutes later we followed this hotel ship in with Beligou.

Condrieu was an old barge man's town with not too much available.  After a joint Anglo German search of both sides of the river we managed a few supplies but decided it was definitely a one night stand.

Well the next morning's embarkation processes went according to established national practices with Beligou gone before the tea maid had got himself moving. Knowing we had even further to go we got away by 10 ish.

Sablons was the first lock 18 km down the Rhone and to our surprise Beligou was sat there. We pulled alongside and the poor things had waited over an hour again. I was beginning to think this may be a French German thing. We had seen a number of references to Bridges destroyed by the Germans during the war. Again, shortly after our arrival, and some of my eloquent  French radio work, the lights turned green and in we went.

We followed Beligou to the next lock at Gervans a further 27 Km down river and watched them tie up at the waiting pontoon. We drew alongside and the Skipper told us the lock keeper said there would be a 20 minute wait. As he spoke the lights changed to green. Again our arrival seemed to have changed everything.

After this we went in to the next lock first and of course it opened straight away. I told Beligou that I hadn't mentioned them to the lock keeper.

After a very long hard day  dismissing stops that were too shallow or virtually uninhabited we made for Valence as we knew the weather was turning and we may get stuck for a few days. The scenery is now much more dramatic, stormy and rugged. Just as I am often described.

Valence is a very old town of Roman origin. Old Boney began his career here at Emperors and Conquerors college excelling at bombing the crap out of people. There is the, compulsory, medieval cathedral, Strangely not called Notre Dame but St Appolinaire, a lovely market, shops including a wool shop for Mrs K, parks and an unusual bandstand with a backdrop of the Rhone and the surrounding mountains.

This bandstand was made famous by the artist Peynet who, in 1942, was sat around in the park wondering what to paint when he saw a single violinist on the bandstand playing to a solitary onlooker, apparently the violinist's lover.

Just like Peynet, I think I was able to capture the romance of it all.

Valence is a proper town, a real shopping town. We like shopping!

I was stood in a woman's clothing shop just outside the changing rooms trying not to look too suspicious, careful not to look towards the lingerie section, while Mrs K was trying stuff on. When my mind recalled our sighting of an Osprey on the Rhone. This majestic bird flew gracefully up and down the river scouring and searching, swooping low for a closer look and then circling away just at the last minute. Dedicated to the hunt it soared near and far, taking its time, examining, probing, moving closer, testing, then backing away. After a considerable time she circled eyes fixed, like only a bird of prey can, then dove headlong into the Rhone. But no, she still didn't come out with a bloody summer dress.

We like Valence but four nights just about covered it and it was time to explore the Rhone further.